Another Prisoner, Another Professor

The next morning at breakfast.

Hermione listened, yawning, to Harry's newfound knowledge the next morning. "You're right, it does sound like he suspects Black. Still, we ought to remember that it could be someone else he's talking about."

"Oh, come off it, Hermione," said Ron, who had got Scabbers from the Gryffindor Tower and was feeding him little bits of sausage. "Who else is it going to be? Snape thinks it's someone who's good with potions - Black. He thinks it's someone who's rich enough to own that goblet - Black. Besides, Snape hates him, do you think he's going to pass up an opportunity to try and get Black into trouble with Dumbledore?"

"I'm just saying," Hermione replied, "that we shouldn't assume we know things unless we really do know them. Besides, how well do we really know Black?" She looked first at Harry, then at Ron.

Harry stared back. "You're joking."

"No, I'm not."

"You don't really think that Black would have - "

"I just think that we shouldn't assume he's everything he seems to be," she replied. "That whole thing with the Mirror of Erised still feels suspicious to me - "

"You know what your problem is?" asked Ron. "You don't like him because he doesn't spend half his classes going on about how brilliant you are."

"What? I can't believe you'd think - "

"Last night at the feast, when everyone was talking about what he said they were good at? You didn't say anything. Plus you're still shirty because you don't think he should have taught us dueling."

"Ron, that is not - that has nothing to do with anything!" Hermione exclaimed.

"He's our best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher yet and all you can do is make up rubbish about how he's secretly out to get Harry or letting Lupin into the castle or something. Bit rich, coming from someone who thought Lockhart was the greatest - "

"Well, it's a bit rich for you to be defending Black, you were the one who said that the darkest thing he'd ever battled was probably a spot!"

Harry desperately wanted to step in and get them to calm down, but he knew that he'd have to be fair to both sides if he did, and he was definitely on Ron's side. Hermione was very clever and he was grateful to her for helping him find out about blood magic, but he thought her suspicions of Black were off-base. So far he had been nothing but helpful to Harry, and as much as Harry didn't like to admit it, he thought Ron might have a point about Black not gushing over Hermione during classes.

Before Harry could come up with a solution, Professor McGonagall came up to the table and rested her hand on the back of his chair. "Potter, there's something I'd like to talk with you about."

"All right," he said, nervously rising from his chair.

Once in her office, Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk and looked at him very solemnly. "This news may be shocking or frightening to you, Potter, but it is in your best interests to know that Remus Lupin - "

"Is coming after me," Harry finished. "I know. I heard Ron's parents talking about it during the summer."

McGonagall blinked rapidly behind her square spectacles. "Oh."

Harry looked at her desk, unsure of what else to say.

"Well, in light of the recent events," she said, folding her hands in front of her, "I'm afraid that even though you are now allowed to go to Hogsmeade - "

"What?" Harry looked up quickly. "But before I couldn't - "

"There was a chance in circumstances," said McGonagall crisply. "However, I must insist that you still remain in the castle while your classmates visit the village. I'm sorry, Potter. Hopefully Lupin will be captured soon and the restriction will be lifted."

Very confused, Harry returned to breakfast.

He had very little time to think about Hogsmeade or Black or Ron and Hermione's quarrel, however; there was less than a week until the first Quidditch match and Wood insisted that the team practice at every possible moment. When they were unable to actually be on the pitch, he followed them around the common room with more diagrams and very specific notes detailing the usual methods of each of the players on the Slytherin team.

"At least our notes are short," said George one evening. "Strategy of the Slytherin beaters: destroy all in your path."

Harry barely heard him. He was looking through the section of his Defense Against the Dark Arts book that covered dark artifacts and trying to figure out how he could best destroy the object Black had assigned him, a rather sinister-looking stained handkerchief with the initials "W. B. B." stitched on one corner.

Wood arrived at the least team practice before the match carrying seven rolls of parchment in his arms, which he quickly began to hand out.

"Not again, Oliver," Fred moaned. "Look, I already know everything Bole and Derrick are going to try - "

"It doesn't matter!" Wood shouted. There was a half-mad look on his face. "I just ran into Flint on the stairs. We aren't playing Slytherin, we're going to play Hufflepuff. Flint says Malfoy's arm hurts too much for him to play."

"I bet I could make his arm really hurt," said Harry, gritting his teeth.

"Hufflepuff's a lot better than they were last year!" said Wood frantically. "Now that Tatting's left, they've got Cedric Diggory as a Seeker, and he's good, Harry, he's really good. I know you can beat him, but it's going to be tougher than beating Malfoy. Plus he's their captain, so we have to watch out for strategy - "

"What are you worrying about strategy for?" George asked. "Isn't Cedric Diggory that thick one - "

"You can't assume he's thick!" shouted Wood. "If you do, you'll underestimate him! We can't underestimate anyone! We have to be aware of every possibility! We have to win!"

Ron and Hermione were maintaining a cautious distance from each other; Ron's comment about Black not gushing over Hermione had prompted her to work even harder in Defense Against the Dark Arts, taking so many notes that Harry was worried she would sprain something in her wrist. "Look, just forget what Ron said," he told her one evening when Ron was talking to Fred and George on the other side of the common room. "You're doing great in Defense Against the Dark Arts. If Black hasn't noticed, he's an idiot. You don't have anything to worry about."

"I haven't spent enough time on his class," said Hermione desperately, underlining portions of her notes. "First I was concentrating on Arithmancy, but then I fell behind in Muggle Studies, and once I caught up there I realized I hadn't done enough work on my dark artifact - "

"I still don't understand how you're managing to take all these classes," said Harry.

"Oh, Harry, it's fine," Hermione said, dismissively waving her hand.

Fortunately, Hermione's extra work paid off; on the day before the Quidditch match, she successfully destroyed a cursed quill, blasting it into harmless shreds of feather. Black looked impressed.

"Well done, Hermione!" he said, making a mark in his grade book. "You could have done it with less effort, but this shows an advanced level of magic...very good work, very good."

Hermione beamed.

"If she thinks he's secretly evil," Ron whispered to Harry, "why does she care what he thinks about her?"

Harry was about to answer, but at that moment he heard the hinges of the door to the classroom screech. He turned; Snape was standing in the doorway, his mouth twisted and his hands flexing as though he would like to wrap them around someone's neck.

"Hello, Severus," said Black lightly, setting down his grade book on one of the tables. Neville, Harry noticed, had turned very white. "What can I do for you?"

The corner of Snape's lips twitched. "This morning," he said, his eyebrows narrowed, "I made the unfortunate discovery that some of the herbs from my private stores have disappeared entirely. Since other such incidents have occurred in the past - " he paused and gave Harry a very nasty look " - I took the precaution this year of casting a series of complex spells on the lock. Spells which would require the ability of a fully trained wizard to get past them."

"I take it you've reordered?" asked Black. "I can lend you a few of mine until the new ones arrive. Well, except for belladonna, I've just run out."

"I shall not require your help," said Snape icily. He gave Black one final glare and left, slamming the door loudly behind him.